Poverty, Chastity, Obedience: Three Awful Words
by Seth da Hooded Bandit
Summary: If it wasn't enough that he was stuck doing the Church's bidding for a week, his supervisor was tormenting him with lustful hypocrisy. Warnings: yaoi, lemon, language


**Author's Note: **Instead of being a good person and writing the next chapter to "Little Bird", I was a very bad person and thought of this in the shower. Lemon, yaoi, boyxboy, you get the damn idea. This is my very first lemon/thing so, please don't hate on me! Also, I hope I don't offend anybody with the church stuff. I did the best I could, considering I'm not very religious.

* * *

_Eric Gray had just finished checking around the church, making sure that it was orderly for tomorrow morning. He was looking forward to resting at home, after reading the next passage in the Holy Bible that was planned for tomorrow's session. He stepped out of the doors, and closed them with a satisfied _click!_ As he was about to bolt the doors shut, he heard a call in the distance._

_"Pastor Gray?"_

_The older man turned to see a figure walking towards him. He hadn't seen the person due to the insufficent moonlight in the somewhat crisp spring evening. Rather, actually, it was two individuals...as one was being carried by the other. The pastor had a grim feeling about the man being carried by the other...if anything, he was most likely under the influence of alcohol. Not sure if anything else he could say was appropriate, he replied, "Um, good evening sir. Is there anything I can help you with?"_

_The man turned his gaze to the man on his back, then back to the pastor, "Yes, actually. Father, I need you to help me accomplish something. It involves this drunkard."_

_The pastor was quite worried about what kind of proposition could come from this man, but he decided to be humored, "How can I be of service?"_

_The younger man smirked, "I ask that you keep him in your church. Place him under the principles of a monk or pastor, and have him work for the community for a week at most."_

_Eric Gray narrowed his eyes, "Sir, you expect me to take in a man as an assistant into the House of the Lord, when he is most likely committing a sin right now?"_

_The other nodded, "Yes, Father."_

_The pastor shook his head, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not comfortable with doing that."_

_He wasn't about to give up the fight, "I'll pay you a hundred and fifty dollars in cash, right now." It was beginning to scare the pastor on how much this man would go in order to get his task accomplished._

_Eric frowned, "You do know, sir...that you could be convicted so sinning at this very moment. Gambling is not a holy practice." The man would never admit that although he was a minister, he too enjoyed the pleasures of gambling, wine, and women every now and then. God forgive him._

_The smaller, younger man frowned a little, "I understand. I will kneel in front of the altar for a month if that's what it takes for God to forgive me. Please, Father. While this man may be drunk at the moment, he is very religious and will follow any command that you give him."_

_The pastor stroked his chin. He wouldn't mind having some kind of assistant around, even if it was only for a week. However, this encounter wasn't an innocent asking. The pastor wasn't stupid, this sounded like a plan to get revenge or settle some kind of bet. Eric sighed, "God forgive me, I suppose."_

_The smaller male smiled, and pulled the cash from his pocket, giving it to the minister. He grinned, "God bless you, sir."_

_Eric nearly rolled his eyes, "I think you should worry more about yourself..."_

* * *

With a crushing headache, Francis moved against the soft pillows that were present on his bed. They weren't as soft as the pillows on the bed he slept in at home, so he could only assume that whoever decided to help him out of that party last night was too lazy to take him home. Not that he minded, waking up in a bed was better than waking up on the hard floor or in a puddle of alcohol...which is most likely what would have happened if someone wasn't concerned enough to assist the Frenchman.

His brain was groggy, all he could remember was having a drinking contest with Ivan, taking some interesting photos with Antonio and Gilbert, and possibly having some fun with Arthur in a bathroom stall. Nothing too crazy, although the hangover was a hell to pay. He wondered who had been kind enough to keep him from intoxicating himself even more.

Opening his blue eyes, he looked around the room, which was surprisingly lacking. He expected to see his savior in bed right next to him, but he came up short. The only things in the room besides the bed were two doors, one leading to a restroom and the other most likely leading out. He stood and headed towards the other door, trying the knob. However, he blinked in surprise whenever he found the door locked, and possibly bolted shut. He looked up at the tiny windows at the top of the room, and noticed that light was streaming from them. Francis could dismiss any thought that this was a way of trapping him in order to make advantage of his body...and if it was, he was interested to find how horny one could get in the day's cruel light.

There was also a small bedside table, to which Francis could see a note on top. Walking up to it, he plucked it into his fingers and opened it. He began to read:

_"Sir Francis, If you are to awake before 9, then I wish to give you some insight on your situation. You're in a room that is located in my church. God forgive me, I was asked by a man to keep you here. When 9 comes, I will deliver breakfast to you. Until then, please do not do anything rash. I will explain everything else upon arrival."_

Francis groaned and tossed the note across the room, falling back on the bed. He reached into his back pocket, searching for his cell phone. Maybe he could call someone for help? But, he found no phone or wallet in his pockets, and he nearly began to panic. However, he calmed whenever he remembered that he was in a church. Whatever happened to him here would be under the watchful eyes of the Lord...they couldn't possibly be here to torture him. The question was: who would set this all up?

About thirty minutes later, a taller man with graying hair came into the room with a meal for him. Without saying a word, he gave the tray to Francis and allowed him to eat. Once the man had finished, he looked up at the minister, who held a small and nervous smile on his slightly rounded face.

He spoke, "I suppose you'd like to know more about this...?"

Francis nodded, and said in a flat voice, "Oui."

The pastor pulled out a notecard, "The man who brought you here asked me to read this to you. Let's see..." He glanced over the message briefly, and his face paled to a degree. Francis was even beginning to grow nervous. He sighed, "Very well, it says: _'Francis, I have grown irritated with you're constant need to take me whenever you see me. Your lack of control concerns me, and although I know that you were born a...molestation machine...'_" The pastor choked on the words. Francis's eyebrow twitched, that was just plain rude. "_'...I know that churches can turn the wickedest sinners into purer beings. I'm fairly certain that a week in here will break you apart, no matter how much your pride claims that you could bear through with it. So, here's the catch. If you can manage to live like a pastor or monk for the entire seven-day week, I'll present you with $200 in cash. If you shame God in any way, shape, or form...then you owe me that amount. And don't think you can bribe that pastor to lie for you. I'll be in church every day to keep an eye on you. You do know the rules of a holy man, right Francis? That means, no sex and no wine. The pastor can fill you in with everything else. Good luck~!'_"

Francis felt his shoulders fall, and his head drop. An entire week of being a monk? Who in the hell would be that cruel-hearted, that awful, that wicked...?

The minister then spoke, "The man didn't give me his name, but he signed the note with the initials 'A.K.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Francis's eyes widened, then narrowed back down into angered slits. Arthur Kirkland. He should have known. The next time that Francis saw Arthur far away from a church, he would personally make sure to drag him through hell, and fuck the living shit out of him.

The Frenchman had opened his mouth to repeat the very thought, loudly, until the preacher crossed his arms in a scolding method. Right, he was in a church. Dammit, Arthur. Who knew that his possible haven could be made his own damn prison?!

He said slowly and almost tartly, "If I see Arthur, I will make sure to express my displeasure for this situation in a way that I'm sure the Lord would easily forgive me."

The pastor smiled, "Good. So, as long as you're in this situation, I might as well fill you in on what is expected of you while you work under me." He pulled a list from his jacket, which Francis was beginning to wonder what all the man was storing in there.

He read off the principles that were expected of a monk, and Francis felt his hope drain as the minutes passed. He could be convicted of sin if he even dared to think of something inappropriate? And wine was reserved for the Eucharist ceremonies. How would he survive this week?!

The pastor said, "I suppose today is Day One. I'll find something for you to wear."

He headed out of the door, closing it and locking it. Francis nearly cursed aloud once he heard the lock click closed. No way he could run away from this now...

* * *

In a little while, there was a nun that came to his room, carrying garments for him. Out of habit, Francis was about to raise his hand to blow a kiss to the woman and say a couple sweet words, but...the principles of a monk stopped his hand, and he merely gave her a quiet greeting. He frowned once she turned and left, leaving the garments on the bed next to him. Nuns were here too? Damned holy rules. There had better be some elderly ones, or at least no other ones could be very attractive like that woman who had just walked in. Why in the world would a woman like her give up life and devote herself entirely to religion? Hell, why would anyone? Dismissing grim thoughts, he hissed and pulled on the garments fitting for a pastor or minister.

Finally, the pastor came back, and escorted him around the church, showing where everything was. He introduced him to the nuns upstairs, which was hell for the poor Frenchmen. They were all stunningly beautiful. Then, the pastor led him to the front where he led him to the front of the church, where there were already people waiting in the pews for the minister. The pastor, now Francis knew his name to be Father Gray, told him to stand against the wall. It turns out that Francis wouldn't have to do a whole lot, as Father Gray would do most of the work. He just had to stand there and resist any urges he found himself facing during the Mass.

However, when his eyes scanned over the room, his eyes locked with a man with short blonde hair and green eyes, narrowed under thick eyebrows. His mouth was in a smug smirk, as if he was enjoying what the Frenchman would be going through for the week. He sighed, and repeated the words "poverty, chastity, and obedience". They'd be his guide for this experience. All he had to do was get until next Friday, he'd be fine.

The Mass began, the preacher speaking the words that everyone in the audience had been raised listening to. Francis listened intently, trying to keep the words of the Lord in his mind rather than the fact that the Englishman in the audience was staring at him the whole time. The thought would make him blush, a certain sign of the deadly sin, lust.

Finally, Father Gray turned to him and one of the nuns, and asked that the nun pass around the bread and Francis would pass around the wine glasses. Without thinking, Francis started on the side where Arthur wasn't sitting, and started heading down the pews, giving the adults who sat there a wine glass. Finally, he reached the end of the second set of pews and realized his mistake. The last person he gave wine to was Arthur, and he had to stand there until Father Gray took them through the Eucharist process, and Francis made his second idiotic mistake watching Arthur while it was occurring.

The shorter and thinner blonde had glanced up at Francis while he drunk at the wine, initially annoying him, due to his wish for wine as well. He'd have to go through this everyday, and the taller blonde was beginning to dread it. However, his eyes widened whenever some of the wine that Arthur had been taking in, had slipped out of his lips, and made a trail down to his chin. Even worse, his tongue slipped coyly down and lapped up the wine slowly, tauntingly. Francis fought a blush forming, and the blood wasn't just rushing to his cheeks. He found some starting to fall towards his nether regions. And, when he continued watching him when the audience was partaking in the small amount of bread, he watched as Arthur briefly ran over his tongue over what was to be considered the Lord's body. Francis had to keep himself from thinking that he wanted to be that piece of bread. He tried to control his thoughts to avoid getting hard, he'd never hear the end of it if the Englishman was aware that he was getting an erection from merely watching him consume food in church.

Once the Mass was over and the audience was filing out, Arthur remained for another few minutes, hoping he could speak with Francis. He came up to him, and smirked, "How was the first day?"

Francis hissed, "It was great. Shouldn't you be leaving?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "You think you can last through this bloody week?"

Francis nodded, "Oui. And I plan on walking away successful."

Arthur shrugged, "This'll be more fun than I expected. See you tomorrow, monsieur."

Francis sighed, and followed Father Gray back to his room. He ate dinner, and rested in bed. If today was hard, then tomorrow would surely be worse. He had the feeling that if he were to earn the promised $200, he wouldn't be trudging lightly. Arthur was merciless at times, and Francis was certain that he'd make the days worse and worse.

* * *

The second day had started out in a similar fashion to the first day. Breakfast, changing, and heading out to stand by Father Gray while he preached. Francis enjoyed Father Gray's preaching; he could tell that the man was very devoted to their Lord's practices, his voice full of life and soul as he explained the bible verses.

Then, that dreaded time came once again. He decided to try going another way, but Arthur was sitting in a different seat today. Whenever he realized that he had given the last glass to the blonde once again, he had the urge to snap and curse under his breath. When Father Gray led them through it once again, Arthur did the same damned trick as last time, and Francis couldn't find the strength to look away...and he screamed awful words in his head as he felt himself getting hard by watching Arthur stroke his cheek temptingly with his tongue, until the skin was slightly pink and covered in saliva. The bread wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it wasn't helping his hard subside.

Finally, once the Mass for today was over, Francis immediately headed towards the restroom. Running his hands under sink water, he washed his face and hissed aloud. That Arthur was playing coy and innocent whenever the two exchanged a glance, but Francis knew that he was truly becoming a personal incubus for Francis, and it was killing him. If they had been under normal circumstances, then Francis would have gladly jumped him right then and there, but they were in the Lord's house. He was still confined to this place for five more days.

Leaning against the wall of the restroom, he tried to calm himself down and relax. Arthur was gone, and he didn't have to worry about him being too close to Francis's comfort. Running his damp hands through his blonde locks, he exhaled deeply.

"I'm actually somewhat impressed."

His blue eyes flew open to meet those damned sinful green ones, and that smile that made Francis want to melt, as he was already in the heat. The Englishman was striding closer to the Frenchman, placing his hands on either side of Francis's head on the cool tile wall. His body was far too close, but not close enough. If Arthur moved about a finger's length closer, the two bodies would be touching.

Arthur whispered, "I'm going to break you, Francis. But not yet...by the seventh day, you'll be begging me for mercy..."

Francis clenched his teeth when he felt his erection growing, trying to spring to life. His hands were inching closer to Arthur's waist, wanting so badly to wrap his arms around it and grind himself against him in revenge and need. When the Englishman caught him, he raised an eyebrow and scolded in a teasing tone, "Naughty, naughty~. You're under holy vows...and holy men do not touch others in a sexual manner."

Francis croaked, "Arthur...you're _killing_ me. I beg of you...stop. _Je vous en prie_..."

Arthur smirked, "But where would the fun in that be?" He wouldn't dare admit that he enjoyed watching the Frenchman whimper and beg, and the use of French was turning him on rapidly. He lavished his own lips with his tongue, and listened to Francis swallow, his cheeks turning slightly pink. He could have called him out right then and there, but he wanted to keep going with this game. Another day sounded like much more fun, and he had an ace up his sleeve. Removing his hands from the wall, and backing away, he smiled innocently, "I bid you _adieu_, Francis."

Damned language of his, Arthur was cleverly using it against him, and his need to throw the smaller blonde to the floor and seek release into him was growing larger by the day. If he couldn't even self-satisfy himself, how would he manage these five more days?

* * *

The next day was the same as yesterday. Same temptation from the wine and bread, and he had to calm himself down in the restroom. However, Father Gray stopped him on his way back to his room.

"Francis, you've watched me preform a baptism today and yesterday. Do you think you could conduct one later tonight?" he asked.

The blonde nodded, "Yes, Father. May I ask who I am baptizing?" He was certain that it couldn't be Arthur. If he wanted to be baptized, he'd wait until the seventh day in order to do so. It was only the third day.

Father Gray replied, "Arthur Kirkland." At once, Francis paled. The pastor continued on as if he didn't notice, "He had requested a public one, but I have an errand to run this evening, and the other two individuals who were planning on being baptized canceled. It's only one, so it shouldn't be too bad."

Francis's stomach twisted and turned. The pastor thought it was a good idea to leave him alone? With Arthur? The damned man who had making him hard since the first day? All he could utter was, "Yes, Father." The pastor told him to lockup afterwards, and went back to checking the church's state of cleanliness.

Why in the hell would Arthur do this to him? What had he done to him? Sure, maybe he was a bit eager with the amount of sex they had, but it was only because he loved him so much, and his thin and tempting body. Thank God that neither the pastor or Arthur was here. He was beginning to wonder if he should just take the risk of going to Hell to pleasure himself in the evenings to calm himself down.

* * *

It was 7:58 pm, and Francis was standing by the river where the baptism was supposed to take place. He was tense, more on edge than he had ever been in his life...not even that incident when Lovino caught him, Gilbert, and Antonio having a threesome together could match how anxious he was at the current moment. It would only be him and Arthur, together in a river, and Francis having to baptize him. God forgive his wicked thoughts, but he knew that if he even tried anything on Arthur, he'd owe the man $200. But, he was mainly worried about his pride; he had attempted to will his body to resist the urges that Arthur had presented him...and so far he wasn't doing so great.

When the clock struck 8, Arthur came towards him out of the darkness, a satisfied smile on his face. Not even uttering a greeting to him, Francis stepped into the river, while Arthur stood in the grass by the bank.

"Father Gray told me that you weren't baptizing anyone else tonight," he said, matter-of-factly. Francis already cringed at the coy act.

Francis nearly growled, "I'm not. Just strip off and get in here."

Arthur raised an intrigued eyebrow, and began to slowly unbutton his shirt. Francis was once again stupid enough to stare up at him while he did this. The Brit's thin torso was revealed in the pale moonlight, something Francis could drool over. Tauntingly, Arthur undid the button on his trousers and slid them off slowly, shaking his hips slightly when he did. Did he even realize that all of the times he tempted Francis during Mass and now during a scared baptism, that he was more that likely signing away his chance at Heaven? But, apparently, seeing the Frenchman blush and know that he couldn't do a damn thing to him, no matter how much his brain and body were begging him to slam him onto a surface and pound into him, was worth it all.

Francis could see that he was wearing the garment appropriate for baptism already, and he stepped into the cold river, flinching at it's chill on his naked flesh. He approached Francis slowly, and the latter took in a deep breath.

The Frenchman placed his hands on Arthur's shoulders, using any of his strength to not immediately pull him into his arms out of lust.

"Having fun being chaste for three whole days? Wow, it really has been that long. Is that a new record?" the Englishman taunted, giving him a coy smirk.

Francis hissed, "It's not, thank you very much."

Arthur shrugged, "Maybe after tomorrow it will be..." His thin arms reached out to Francis, who wasn't wearing a whole lot either, and rested his hands on his hips. Francis immediately blushed, and his fingers twitched. Arthur smirked and leaned in, so that their lips were only a centimeter away from one another, "No-no, Francis. We're here to preform an innocent baptism. You're not supposed to give into temptation."

The temporarily-vowed man snarled, "You're making it very difficult..."

Arthur ghosted his fingers over Francis's sides, making his cheeks turn crimson, "It's kind of nice watching you whimper in need...I finally get to feel like I'm dominant..."

Francis growled, "Is this all for your entertainment? All to switch it up for a bit?"

Arthur smirked, but denied Francis's claim, "No...not just for that reason." He chuckled, "But, that can be spoken about once this week is over. Right now, you're supposed to be baptizing me."

Francis gulped, and nodded. He lowered Arthur's body into the water until he was completely submerged underwater. After a couple seconds, Francis allowed Arthur to rise back up again. But, as Arthur's body shivered in cold, Francis felt his body began to quake and tremble. He opened his mouth to say the words that he had been required to say during a baptizing session, but before he could even say the words "I bless..." he caught himself staring at Arthur's drenched body.

Immediately, his brain started running at a million miles per hour. Francis imagined Arthur lying underneath him, squirming and moaning, that cold water replaced by steaming sweat, and feeling every inch of him...knowing that it was all his for the taking. His fingers could already imagine running down...

Arthur suddenly leaned in very close, and said in a whisper, "You're trembling...?" The warm breath hit his skin, and only two words entered his mind: fuck this.

* * *

Francis grasped onto Arthur, and pulled the man's body into his own, slamming his lips against the smaller man's, causing the Brit to squeak in surprise. Francis's hands immediately grasped his rear, and Arthur wailed once they broke for air, "You loose the bet! You owe me 200...!" His breath was hitched and draining.

Francis snarled, "I don't care!" He pulled Arthur off his failing feet, and pushed him against the smooth limestone of the river, digging his muscles into the rock.

He shoved his lips against Arthur's, and forced his tongue against his, lapping eagerly at the Brit's tongue and mouth. He ground his erection into Arthur's hips, causing the smaller man to whimper. Francis groaned, and forced his leg in between the struggling Arthur, feeling his large erection beginning to grow more. The cool water made him even harder, but the heat resting between the two bodies far surpassed the chill of the cruel water.

Once Francis's tongue was sore from Arthur biting down on it and gliding his own tongue over the organ, he latched his lips onto his pale neck, sucking and biting mercilessly, taking in the pleasure of every tremble that Arthur made was making the blood rush to his cock even more. His hands worked at the hardening nipples on Arthur's flat chest, before allowing his lips to do the work for him. But now, the Englishman was trying to protest, moan, and scream all at the same time. Francis's tongue lavished his chest with the attention it was begging to be deserved.

Arthur grasped at Francis's longer blonde locks, tugging and pulling at the roots, causing the taller man to moan in lust.

Soon, Francis found his hand working at the cloth that was wrapped around Arthur's nether regions, his fingers hungry to feel him.

Arthur growled, "You're going to fuck me in holy water? Have you lost your damn mind!?"

Francis smirked darkly, "...You teased at me for three fucking days in the Lord's house. Shut the hell up and let me fuck you until you're _screaming_." He felt the cloth fall free, and he tossed it onto the bank, taking in the moans given by Arthur. His hangs curled around the base of Arthur's dick, feeling it twitch and enjoying the heat. He pushed Arthur further up on the stone out of the water, and climbed on top of him. Francis released his own cock from the prison of the garment for the baptism, and he held both in his hand, beginning to stroke the two of them together.

Arthur wailed out, "F-Fuck...!"

Francis slowed the stroking, releasing his own pulsing groin, and continued giving all the attention to Arthur's length, sliding his finger over the slit and smearing the already forming pre-cum over the tip of his dick. Deciding to torture the damned Brit even more, he lowered his face towards the organ, and released his tongue to lap at the cock's tip.

Arthur growled, "You fucking tease...! Stop the fucking foreplay!"

Francis didn't listen, he merely slid his fingers over Arthur's sac, beginning to take the cock into his mouth. After a couple teasing licks, he removed his lips and gripped the base of Arthur's dick.

He could see the Englishman on the verge of screaming, crying, or boiling with rage...possibly a combination of all three. Arthur stuttered, "Y-You f-fucking f-frog..." Francis didn't release his hold on Arthur, not wanting him to come just yet.

The Frenchman's cock was aching painfully, wanting so badly to feel release. He finally managed to find Arthur's entrance, and swirled tauntingly around the ring of muscles present. Sliding one finger in, Arthur snapped, "Take that goddamn finger out of me right now, Francis!"

Francis raised an eyebrow, smirked, and shook his head, "_Non._" He slipped another one in him and began to scissor the smaller blonde whimpering and squirming underneath his larger body.

Arthur cried out, "Just take the damn fingers out, and_ fuck me_!"

Francis didn't take out the fingers, and grinned, "I don't believe you want it that badly."

Arthur's eyes shot open, and he pulled harshly on Francis's roots, leaning the man's face closer to his own. He shouted, "Put your goddamn dick in my ass right now, bloody frog! You're not a fucking dumbass and you're not deaf! Hurry the hell up and screw me or I'm fucking shaving all your bloody hair off while you sleep!"

And with one harsh motion, Francis buried his entire length in Arthur, causing the man underneath of him to call out in pleasure and pain. His thick eyebrows were screwed together, and his cheeks were turning crimson. Francis felt him relax, and at once he began to start moving in and out of Arthur, making the two of them moan together. Thrusting harder into him, Francis searching for the spot that would make Arthur scream out his name. His tight hold on the Brit's hips were dangerously tight, but Arthur didn't seem to care at all.

Finally, after he hit that bundle of nerves, Arthur arched his back off the stone and screamed, "_FRANCIS!_" The Frenchman pounded into the man at that very spot, watching Arthur's eyes roll back in his skull in pleasure, and knew that there would be stars in his field of vision.

Arthur wailed and cried out, desperately wishing that Francis would remove his hand from his dick and let him come. All of the heat was pooling inside of him, and Arthur felt that he would simply burst if he didn't allow him sweet relief. As if Francis had read his mind, his grip on Arthur's shaft loosened, and he began to stroke him in time with his quick thrusts, Arthur's hips bucking in time as well.

At long last, Arthur came onto his and Francis's stomachs, along with Francis's hand. He cried out the name of the man topping him, and felt his insides tighten around Francis's swollen cock. A couple seconds later, Francis finished and released deep within Arthur, calling out his name as well.

Holding each other close, the two climbed out of the holy water - that was more than likely tainted from the sex - and lied together on the bank.

Arthur whispered, "I never realized how much I missed that in only three days..."

Francis growled, "You had it easy, _salaud_. _Merde_, at least you could actually masturbate during those three days!"

Arthur wrapped his arms around Francis's body, and gave him a satisfied smiled, "I'm sorry I put you through hell in these three days..."

Francis smiled back, kissing Arthur tenderly, "_Je te pardonne, mon amour._"

After a minute of silence, Arthur spoke, "You still owe me the $200, though."

* * *

**Thanks for reading~! Like I said, please don't hunt me down and kill me, since this is my first lemon. **


End file.
